


Once Bitten

by phantomthief_fee



Series: Saudade AU Fanworks [6]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Illnesses, Injury, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: Despite his best efforts to stay safe, Grant has been bitten
Relationships: Grant Cohen & Shawn Flynn
Series: Saudade AU Fanworks [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1427869
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BornOfFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornOfFire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Epidemic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627178) by [BornOfFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornOfFire/pseuds/BornOfFire). 



Grant had gotten bitten.

Ever since the beginning of this apocalypse, this had been his nightmare. It had all happened so fast. One second, he’d been looking through a dumpster for supplies and the next a zombie had been sinking its teeth into his arm. He’d reacted on instinct, fumbling out the knife Shawn had given him and driving it into its skull. It was too late, though. The damage had been done. He’d been infected.

His mind was reeling as he ran back toward the safehouse. This couldn’t be happening. What would Shawn say? Would Shawn try to kill him? Tears began to sting at his eyes. He didn’t want to turn into one of **_them_**. His breath came in short gasps, both from the exertion of running and from the fear suddenly gripping his heart. 

“I don’t want to die,” he whimpered.

He’d seen people turn before. Once or twice he and Shawn had come across people who’d been bitten only for them to turn when the infection got the better of them. It wasn’t fun to watch. Especially when they could feel themselves changing and begged to be killed so that they could die human. Was that how it was going to end for him? Begging for Shawn to kill him so that he wouldn’t have to become one of those monsters?

He only stopped once he was sure he was far enough away not to encounter any other zombies. He leaned against a wall to catch his breath. He clutched his injured arm to his chest, smearing blood on his shirt. The bite wound throbbed with a pain he’d never felt before. He looked down at the wound, chewing on his lip. There were indentations on his skin where the teeth had met his flesh. They were filling with blood, some spilling out and down his arm. The skin around the teeth marks was an angry red, the veins a sickly green and yellow.

“What do I do?” Grant whispered, sliding down the wall to collapse to the ground. 

He couldn’t tell Shawn, he decided. He didn’t want to put Shawn through the dilemma of whether or not to kill him. It would tear him apart. When he turned…at least then the decision would be clear. He needed to do something about the bite, though. He could clean up the wound, but it would be hard to hide the signs of infection.

“I’ll just hide it under bandages,” Grant said to himself with a weak laugh. “I can say I cut myself.” Shawn would believe it easily enough. Grant had accidentally hurt himself more than once while scavenging. Shawn wouldn’t question if Grant told him that was what had happened.

Grant stumbled to his feet once more, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. His heart continued to pound, though. Deciding his course of action regarding the hiding of the bite didn’t change the fact that he was going to die. It didn’t change the fact that he was going to become one of those things. Just remembering that was enough to almost send him crashing back to the ground. 

“Don’t cry.” He scolded himself as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Crying won’t change anything.” 

Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. The tears began to stream down his cheeks as sobs wracked his body. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. 

“Come on, Grant.” He hiccuped, trying to will the tears to dry up. “This won’t do anything.”

He kept crying, though. He stood there and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. Until all that came were dry heaves and sobs. He took a few more deep breaths until he was calm enough to move, then headed back to the safehouse. 

Shawn wasn’t there when he got back to the attic they’d been staying in, allowing Grant to clean up his wound and hide the signs of the bite under bandages. They were running low on bandages and medicine. He’d have to look for those the next time he went out scavenging. 

With his wound cleaned, Grant rolled his sleeve back down to cover the bandages. If he was lucky, Shawn wouldn’t ask why his shirt was all bloody. 

“Hey.” Grant jumped a bit when Shawn re-entered the safehouse, having gotten lost in his thoughts. “Scavenging go alright?”

“Yeah. It was fine.” Grant forced himself to smile. 

_~~Don’t ask about my arm please don’t ask about my arm.~~ _

_~~He’ll see right through me if I have to lie I can’t lie to him he’ll know~~ _

“Good to hear.” Shawn smiled wearily back. 

“How was your scavenging?” Grant asked, subtly trying to hide his arm.

“Didn’t go as well as I hoped.” Shawn dumped his sack on the ground, pulling out some cans of food and water bottles. “Couldn’t find any more medicine or bandages.”

“But you found food and water.” Grant pointed out, picking up a few of the cans. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Shawn stifled a yawn. “I’ll go back out again later to try again. At least we won’t starve, though.”

“Yeah, starving would be bad.” Grant laughed weakly. He wasn’t craving human flesh yet, but he knew he would be soon enough.

“I’m gonna go take a nap. Can you keep watch?” Shawn asked. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. It made sense that he’d be tired. Neither of them had been getting much sleep lately.

“Yeah, sure,” Grant said. “Have a nice nap.” 

Shawn yawned again, heading into the bedroom. Grant turned his attention to the trap door to their attic sanctuary. How long could he last before he succumbed? He hoped it wouldn’t happen before Shawn woke up. He didn’t want to kill his best friend in his sleep. No use dwelling on it, though. All he could do was wait. 

And so he did.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning, this does get a bit gross and intense. 

* * *

Grant had known turning would hurt. He’d seen it happen before. But nothing could have prepared him for just how awful it truly was. 

He could feel himself changing. Could feel his hunger growing stronger and stronger. Not hunger for normal food, though. No. He’d tried to eat one of the meal bars he and Shawn bad picked up and had been violently ill from it. He longed for meat. For the tangy iron taste of blood. More than once, he found himself standing over Shawn while the other man slept, thinking of how easy it would be to just rip Shawn’s throat out.

These thoughts horrified him, but they kept popping up no matter how hard he pushed them back. It was like some sort of primal urge. He was just so **_hungry_**. His stomach ached from the hunger pains. It was worse than any hunger pains he’d ever had before, like his stomach was trying to eat itself. 

The dark veins had spread as well, reaching all the way up his arm. Whenever he rolled up his sleeve he saw the contagion now coursing through his veins. The unnatural black right under his rapidly paling skin. He’d never understood why a zombie’s blood was always black. Not that it mattered now.

If he could compare some of his feelings to anything, it would be to a fever. He was sweating and delirious, and yet he felt so cold. He gathered up as many blankets as he could, wrapping himself in them in an attempt to feel warmer. No matter how many blankets he covered himself in, though, he couldn’t get any warmer. The cold permeated down to his bones and nothing could make him feel better. 

After an hour or two, he started coughing. It was a wet sort of cough. The kind that came when someone was about to cough something up. And he did. He coughed up blood. It dribbled down his chin, soaking into the blanket. It was black, like ink. But the iron smell still marked it as blood. Soon enough this was joined by bleeding from the eyes. It looked as though he was crying blood.

Grant was crying normal tears as well. He could barely think straight anymore. He was just so afraid. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to turn into one of those monsters. He didn’t want to end up hurting Shawn. He sat hunched over, coughing his lungs out and crying, staining everything with blood. 

He was pretty far gone by the time Shawn woke up from his nap. Although, it didn’t really end up being a nap. Shawn had been running on very little sleep for a long time and finally being able to get some sleep meant his little ‘nap’ had ended up lasting nearly six hours.

Shawn was rather startled when he woke up and it was already dark outside. He scrambled to his feet, looking around frantically. He’d left Grant to keep watch for too long. The other man was probably exhausted. 

“Sorry I slept so long, Grant,” he said, stumbling out of the makeshift bedroom. “I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off as he noticed the horrifying sight before him.

Grant was huddled in a pile of blankets that were quickly becoming stained with blood, both from Grant’s mouth and eyes. Grant was pale, dark veins clearly visible under his skin, and shaking violently. 

“What the Hell?!” Shawn ran over to him. “What happened?! You look awful!”

“I’m fine,” Grant rasped, attempting to smile before he started coughing again. His teeth were stained with blood. 

“You are definitely not,” Shawn said. “Look at you!” He gestured broadly to Grant. 

“I’m fine, really,” Grant tried to insist. His breathing began to speed up. He couldn’t let Shawn know. If Shawn knew, he’d kill him. After all, it wasn’t like zombies remembered their friends or family. If Grant turned, he’d attack Shawn. But he didn’t want to die. 

“Don’t lie to me, Grant.” Shawn’s voice went quiet as he knelt beside Grant. He knew what was going on. He’d known as soon as he’d seen the dark blood leaking from Grant’s mouth and eyes. But he hoped he was wrong. He hoped there was some explanation. 

Grant tried to repeat that he was fine, only to once more devolve into a coughing fit, spitting blood onto the floor.

Shawn exhaled through his teeth, getting up and beginning to pace. He couldn’t let Grant turn. He had to kill him before that happened. Otherwise, he’d be a danger both to himself and to Shawn.

“I’m fine. I’m really fine,” Grant insisted, beginning to cry. “I’m fine! Please don’t hurt me, I’m fine!”

“You’re **not** fine!” Shawn yelled. “Look at yourself!” He knew the yelling would probably draw other zombies, but they’d pulled up the ladder so there was no way for the zombies to get them.

“Please don’t kill me!” Grant begged, full-on wailing now. “I don’t want to die, Shawn! I don’t want to die!”

“Well, I can’t let you turn!” Shawn shot back. He was starting to get agitated. He didn’t **want** to kill Grant. But if he didn’t Grant would almost certainly kill him upon turning. Although zombies didn’t have the best vision, their hearing was excellent. And Shawn was breathing heavily and fighting back tears at this point, which would be rather easy to hear even without that superhuman hearing.

“I don’t want to die,” Grant whimpered. 

Shawn couldn’t even look at him. He couldn’t kill Grant. He knew he couldn’t. So he slumped to the ground, beginning to cry. The two of them sat there, both sobbing and wailing. For the first time, Shawn felt truly hopeless. He was going to lose the one person he loved most in this world. He was going to lose his son. 

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.


	3. Chapter 3

This gets a bit gross again. 

* * *

Shawn left when Grant stopped moving. 

He had to watch as Grant began to choke on his own blood as his lungs filled with fluid. It had been torture to watch. 

No one had been forcing him to watch, though. He could have left at any time. But he hadn’t wanted Grant to die alone. Especially when Grant had been screaming and shivering the entire time. So he’d stayed by Grant’s side until the younger man stopped moving, finally succumbing to the virus.

“Night, lad,” Shawn whispered, patting Grant’s head. He had some time before Grant came back, but he didn’t particularly want to wait around. He didn’t want to have to look at Grant’s still form anymore. 

Grant might have looked as though he were just sleeping if it hadn’t been for the black veins bulging under his skin and the black blood leaking from his mouth. Other than that, though, he was peaceful. It was the most relaxed Shawn had seen him since the apocalypse had started. Shawn almost wanted to just watch him and stroke his hair. 

But Shawn couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at him because Grant’s body was a reminder that he’d failed to protect the one person in the world he’d wanted to keep safe no matter what.

So, Shawn gathered up all the possessions he had and left. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just needed to get away. Hopefully, he’d never see his zombified friend ever again.

Maybe he’d find Lacie. Knowing her, she was probably surviving somewhere. All he had to do was find her. 

.

_He woke up confused._

_Something was missing. He knew something was missing. But what was it?_

_He felt so scared. What was he missing? Where was it?_

_He tried to get up and immediately fell back to the ground with a whimper. His stomach **hurt**. He knew instinctively it was due to hunger. He was so hungry._

_Maybe that was what he was missing. Maybe he just needed some food._

_No…No, that wasn’t it. He knew that wasn’t it. There was… **someone**. Someone he needed to find. _

_He got to his feet, trying to ignore the pain from his stomach. He stumbled through the place he was in. It didn’t seem familiar. There was blood all over the big open area he’d woke up in. Had that been from him? It smelled kind of like him._

_The little room with the bed smelled like someone else. Someone…familiar. The smell made him feel safe and warm, the fuzzy image of a person appearing in his mind. This was the person he was missing, he knew it. He needed to follow this smell._

_The smell also made him even more hungry. It smelled so…alive. So… **tasty**. _

_He shambled out of house, falling down the stairs from the room he’d woke up in the process. trying to follow the smell. Once he got outside, though, he was overwhelmed by a host of new smells and sounds. So many sounds._

_There weren’t enough sounds to be painful, but he could hear everything. He could hear others like him, groaning and shambling about. He could hear the sounds of animals in the trees. He could hear the wind. There was nothing else, though. He didn’t know what else he should be listening for, but he felt as though something was missing._

_He tried to follow the familiar smell, but his hunger made it hard to concentrate. It consumed his every thought, his stomach aching. He needed to eat something. He didn’t care what it was. He just needed to get something in his stomach._

_There was a dead deer by the side of the road. Its belly had already been ripped open and its innards spilled out. It was in the process of rotting. The meat wouldn’t be good. But he didn’t care. He fell to his knees and began to shovel handfuls of viscera and flesh into his mouth. The taste didn’t even register. All that mattered was that it was filling up his stomach._

_Once he was full, he got to his feet once more. Now he could concentrate. Now he could follow the smell. He was going to find out who that familiar smell belonged to._

_He stumbled off, following the smell._


	4. Chapter 4

Lacie had been surviving with Bertram since the apocalypse had started and they were doing a rather good job at it. Her mechanical work had given her enough physical strength to wield her weapons with sufficient force and their combined mechanical knowledge allowed them to build effective traps to keep the zombies out. 

Neither was the most agile, especially Bertram, but they knew how to be quick and quiet when they needed to be. They more than made up for it with their caution and resourcefulness, though, as well as their acute knowledge of each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They didn’t charge into any situation without first having a plan. Bertram wasn’t much of a combatant, so when they had to clear out zombies, Bertram hung back and allowed Lacie to take care of them. 

The two of them moved quickly and quietly, never taking more than they needed from the houses and stores they raided. They couldn’t afford to be greedy and they needed to travel light. Bertram rationed out the supplies of food, medicine, and water so that they wouldn’t run out, keeping a logbook in his bag. Organization was his specialty. 

Their latest shelter was a cabin out in the middle of the woods that they’d stumbled upon. Lacie had rigged up traps around it and now they were recuperating from their journey. They’d been on the move for almost a week straight at that point. They’d run into trouble in the last city they’d found, which had ended with Bertram breaking his arm. Lacie had managed to set it and make a makeshift cast, but both of them knew he needed rest.

Which meant Bertram was watching the safe house while Lacie went foraging for supplies. Bertram was less than thrilled that he had to stay cooped up in the house, but he understood the reason for it. It didn’t stop him from getting antsy, though, pacing around the cramped confines of the cabin and jumping at every creak of every floorboard. He knew it was silly to be so jumpy, especially since he and Lacie had set up some rather loud traps, but he couldn’t help it.

“This whole business is driving me insane,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

He collapsed into the chair he’d pulled up beside the window, leaning on his hand and gazing out into the forest beyond the cabin. The wind blowing through the trees made the tin cans they’d rigged up rattle a bit. He scanned the treeline for any sign of movement. And, to his surprise, he saw something.

A figure was making their way through the trees. Their steps were too sure to be that of a zombie, their movements too controlled and calm. A wave of relief washed over Bertram at the sight of another human and he jumped up to go greet the survivor. As soon as this relief had passed, though, fear replaced it. Many survivors he and Lacie had met had been rather hostile. Just in case, Bertram grabbed an ax from beside the door before leaving the cabin.

“Hello there!” He called out to the figure. 

“Bertie?” A voice called back. 

Bertram frowned. He knew that voice. 

“Shawn?” He squinted, trying to get a better look. 

At this confirmation, Shawn broke into a sprint. It didn’t take long for him to reach Bertram, throwing his arms around the older man. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Bertie,” he mumbled into Bertram’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad to see you too,” Bertram replied, setting the ax down and patting Shawn with his free hand. “Why don’t you come inside?”

Shawn nodded, pulling away. He looked terrible, which was to be expected in all honesty. But Shawn looked worse than others Bertram had seen. There were dark bags under his eyes and his face was pale and gaunt. 

“My word! You look horrible!” Bertram said as he ushered Shawn into the cabin. “What happened? And where’s Grant?”

Shawn tensed, hunching his shoulders and avoiding Bertram’s gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His actions told Bertram everything he needed to know. Bertram’s expression softened. 

“You have my deepest apologies, Shawn,” he said, his voice gentle.

“It’s fine,” Shawn mumbled. 

But it wasn’t. They both knew it wasn’t. 

.

They sat almost completely in silence until Lacie returned. Bertram got Shawn some food and made sure he was comfortable. It didn’t seem as though Shawn wanted to talk, so Bertram wasn’t going to push it. Shawn had taken up residence on the bed, his back against the wall.

“I’m back!” Lacie announced when she returned, slamming the door open.

“Welcome back.” Bertram greeted her from his chair by the window “What did you find?”

“Found some medicine, bandages.” Lacie put down her bag, bringing out her spoils. “Some canned beans, tuna in a can, pain meds.” She threw the bottle of painkillers at Bertram. 

“Looks like you had a good haul,” Shawn rasped with a small smile.

Lacie abruptly looked up upon hearing Shawn’s voice. Her eyes were wide.

“What the Hell are you doing here?!” She demanded, getting to her feet. Despite her aggressive tone, she had a big smile on her face.

“It’s, uh, it’s a long story.” Shawn’s smile faded and he drew into himself once more. 

“Where’s Grant?” She asked. “I didn’t expect you to go anywhere without him. Especially now.”

Abruptly, the light in Shawn’s eyes went out. He all but shut down, hunching his shoulders and drawing his knees up to his chest. Lacie frowned, looking at Bertram for clarification. Bertram just shook his head. 

“He….That’s a joke, right?” Lacie’s expression grew solemn. “Tell me it’s a joke. Tell me this is some stupid joke.” 

She received no answer.

“How? How did it happen?” Her voice was dark.

“I dunno,” Shawn mumbled. “I dunno how. He hid it. He hid it and then it was too late and…” He trailed off, a sob tearing through his body.

The cabin was silent, the only sounds coming from Shawn as he began to cry. Bertram said nothing, hands folded in his lap. He wasn’t as familiar with Grant as Lacie and Shawn were. He knew the boy well enough to be sad that he was gone, but not enough to be as devastated as the other two.

“Dammit!” Lacie suddenly yelled, turning and punching the wall. There were tears in her eyes too. Bertram rose, crossing the room to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologize.” Lacie shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Bertram said. “But I’m sorry all the same.”

Lacie nodded again, trying to keep herself calm. Shawn was still crying, although it was silent now. 

Once she’d calmed herself, Lacie went outside to make sure the cabin was secure. She wasn’t going to let Shawn or Bertram meet the same fate Grant had. 

.

_He was still following the smell._

_It had gotten fainter. He was having a harder time following it._

_He didn’t know how long he’d been walking. The sun had come up and gone at least once. He didn’t really notice._

_He was getting hungry again. Hunger made it hard to think. Hunger made him lose the smell._

_He’d seen others like him and some instinct inside told him to follow them. He had a few times. It had taken a while for him to remember he needed to follow the familiar smell. The smell was fainter when he started following it again._

_He stopped to eat once. Another dead animal. It had already been pretty picked over. But it was enough to dull the hunger._

_He’d found trees. He knew that word, even if he didn’t know why. The trees loomed above him. There were others like him, but many were tangled in wires or ropes. He wasn’t interested._

_There were new smells now. Smells like the familiar one. He knew these smells too. He didn’t like them as much as the familiar smell too._

_There was a house in the distance. The familiar smell was there, as well as the new familiar smells._

_He stumbled closer, an eagerness welling up in his chest. He was almost there. He’d almost found the smell._

_That was when he fell onto the rope with the cans._


	5. Chapter 5

Lacie had just returned from a perimeter check when they heard the dissonant clatter of the cans. All of them froze. Lacie reached for her gun.

“Stay here, I’ll take care of it,” she said, turning for the door. 

“I’ll go with you!” Bertram immediately said, getting up to follow. 

Shawn, meanwhile, had shoved himself into a corner on the bed, as far away from the door as he could. He wasn’t eager to come face to face with another zombie. Part of him was scared it would be Grant’s undead visage he saw staring back at him.

“You can’t do anything with your arm like that,” Lacie said, putting up a hand to keep Bertram from going any further.

“I…suppose that’s true,” Bertram admitted, his face going a bit red. “B-But still! You shouldn’t go alone!”

“Relax,” Lacie assured him with a weary smile. “It’s probably just another shambling corpse. They’re the only ones who ever get stuck in the can traps.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true…” Bertram conceded. “Do be careful, though.”

“I always am.” Lacie gave him a wink and headed out. 

As soon as she’d closed the door behind her, her posture shifted. Her features hardened and she set her shoulders, ready to deal with whatever threat arose. Lacie considered herself a pragmatic sort of person. She did what needed to be done. If that meant getting her hands dirty, so be it. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” she muttered to herself as she stalked over to the can trap. 

There was indeed a zombie twisted in the ropes, tangled and fighting in a futile effort against the fibers. It didn’t notice as she drew closer, making an effort to muffle her footsteps. It was a young man, late teens to early 20′s she estimated. It was covered in dirt and blood, but that wasn’t surprising. 

Lacie clicked her tongue, squatting in front of it as it struggled against its bindings. She hated seeing zombie kids. There was just something wrong about it. Slipping on her gloves, she grabbed the zombie’s face, tilting it up so that she could get a better angle to shoot. 

Her heart stopped when she got a better look at the face. Even covered in dirt and blood and grime, she knew those features. She knew this face. She abruptly let go of the zombie and stumbled back. 

“No,” she whispered, her breathing speeding up. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. 

The zombie was Grant.

.

_The woman smells familiar. Not like the familiar smell he’s been following, but familiar all the same._

_He’s pretty sure he knows her from somewhere, but that probably doesn’t matter. She’s not the smell he’s been following._

_He keeps wriggling in the ropes. He’s still pretty tangled but he’s pretty sure if he keeps struggling he’ll get free._

_The woman hasn’t moved. She seems sad. Or maybe that’s just the way her face looks. He doesn’t really care._

_He’s getting hungry again. Even if she smells familiar, she looks good. Not rotten like the other things he’s eaten._

_Once he gets free maybe he’ll eat her. Then he’ll find the familiar smell._

_The familiar smell is near. He can smell it, so much stronger than it’s ever been before._

_He struggles harder. The smell is so close. He needs to get to it._

_He hears a click but it doesn’t entirely register. He’s focused on the familiar smell._

_Then the door to the cabin opens._

.

The first thing Shawn saw when he left the cabin was one of his best friends pointing a gun at the zombified form of a man he considered family. It was his worst nightmare realized, the scenario he’d dreaded.

“What are you doing?!” He screamed, immediately running to try and wrestle the gun from Lacie’s hand. Bertram was right behind him, trying to drag Shawn away.

“What are ** _you_** doing?” Lacie demanded, attempting to push him off of her.

“That’s Grant! You can’t hurt him!” Shawn yelled.

“That is not Grant! Not anymore!” Lacie retorted. “It needs to be put out of its misery.”

The three of them continued to struggle, Shawn trying to wrestle the gun from Lacie, Lacie trying to keep a hold of her weapon, and Bertram trying to separate them. Grant remained wrapped up in the ropes, although he was actually managing to make progress in getting himself free.

Then the gun was dropped, hitting the ground and going off. And that was when Grant managed to get free. Already disoriented, the trio weren’t prepared for the zombified Grant to lunge at them. He went after Lacie first, the one who was luckily the most heavily armored.

She put her arm up and Grant’s teeth sunk into her jacket. It was leather on top of a lined jacket she’d found, so it was too tough for Grant’s teeth to pierce. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, though. He continued to bite and snap at her, little more than a rabid animal. It was clear that this wasn’t her friend. 

“Get Shawn back inside!” She barked at Bertram, scrambling for her gun.

Bertram nodded, grabbing Shawn by the arm with his free hand and dragging him inside. Shawn provided no resistance, allowing Bertram to get him inside. 

Lacie relaxed a little once she was sure Bertram and Shawn were safe. She turned her attention back to Grant. Or the thing that was once Grant. He was still going for her throat, no doubt aiming to kill. She’d managed to grab her gun, but she wasn’t in a good position to shoot accurately. Not to mention, she was sure the gunshots would draw more zombies to their location. She knew the previous gunshot had likely already gotten the attention of other zombies. 

She needed to get back into the cabin to wait things out and figure out a plan. Shifting her position, she planted a foot on Grant’s chest and kicked. Grant was sent flying back, allowing Lacie to scramble to her feet and sprint inside. She slammed the door behind her and locked it before sinking to the floor. 

“What do we do?” Bertram asked.

“I…Just give me a minute,” Lacie said, running a hand through her hair. 

Shawn laid on the bed, crying. All the trauma of watching Grant die had come bubbling back up again. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to see Grant this way. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to kill Grant. 

.

_The familiar smell is in the building._

_It’s the man. The man that screamed and tried to attack the woman._

_He needs to get to the man._

_He scratches at the wood of the door._

_The door won’t budge._

_He growls and bangs on the door. He **needs** to get inside. He **needs** to get to the man._

_The more he bangs at the door the more frustrated he becomes. He’s hungry and can’t focus and needs to get to the familiar smell._

.

Lacie jumped as Grant began to bang on the door. 

“What do we do?” Bertram repeated, his voice rising in panic.

“I don’t know!” Lacie yelled, getting to her feet. “Just help me block the door!”

“Wait, no.” Shawn sat up, his voice still shaking. He was still crying but he forced himself to his feet. 

“You can’t move anything heavy with your arm,” he said. “I’ll help.”

Bertram gritted his teeth but didn’t argue. He sat down on the bed and allowed Lacie and Shawn to move a bookcase in front of the door. The windows were already boarded up, so that wasn’t a problem. Shawn tried not to look out the window. 

Once the bookcase was moved, Shawn and Lacie collapsed onto the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Shawn said, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have just killed him.”

“Hey. C’mere.” Lacie pulled him to her in a half hug. Shawn began to cry into her shoulder. 

Lacie exchanged a look with Bertram, who was still seated on the bed. Where the Hell were they going to go from here?

**Author's Note:**

> Check out Bornoffire's work on Tumblr and here. She's got a lot of good stuff.


End file.
